Changing Her Mind

by Stevie McFarlane

  “What do you think you’re doing,” a weak voice demanded, when he replaced the cloth.

  “Rebecca,” Mason whispered pulling the offending towel away and laying his cheek against hers. It was damp and cool. Her hair looked dark and curled from sweat and he slumped in relief, sagging back into the chair, wiping moisture from his cheeks.

  “You look terrible,” she told him, green eyes taking in his appearance. The flannel shirt he had on was buttoned wrong and the beard made him look like some kind of mountain man. Dark circles underlined his fatigue and Rebecca’s heart went out to him.

  “What happened?” she questioned, starting to get out of bed and falling back weakly. “You look awful and I feel worse.”

  “You have been very sick honey,” he told her, taking her hand in his and holding tightly. “I was beginning to worry about pneumonia. Are you hungry?”

  “No, but I could sure use a glass of juice if we have some.”

  “Sure.” Mason went into the kitchen and returned with a large orange juice. He watched silently as she sipped, marveling at the fragile beauty before him.

  Setting down the empty glass, Rebecca snuggled down under the covers. “I’m going back to sleep for a while,” she told him, barely able to keep her eyes open now. “You look like you could use some yourself.”

  “I guess I could at that,” he responded, getting out of the chair with effort. Now that the fever had broken and she was better, exhaustion washed over him. Stripping off his jeans he climbed onto the big bed, but before he allowed himself to sleep, he breathed a prayer of thanks.

  At the end of four days together in the cabin, Rebecca was just about out of her mind with boredom. Mason had been wonderful, insisting on cooking all their meals and doing the small amount of housework that was necessary. He had apologized until Rebecca wanted to strangle him. All right, so he had acted impulsively for once, so what. She’d gotten sick because she’d run herself ragged. Everything he’d said about her was true. She didn’t eat right, never got enough sleep and refused to slow down. For the last six months he’d hounded her and now that it had all finally caught up with her, he was blaming himself. It just didn’t make sense. They had been totally alone in a very romantic setting for days and he’d avoided any but the most impersonal contact, even sleeping in the other bedroom, insisting she needed her rest. Worst of all he seemed to have forgotten why he’d brought her here in the first place.

  Rebecca inspected her image in the mirror. Mason had just vacated the bathroom but the scent of his aftershave lingered, adding to her frustration. That stuff ought to be outlawed she thought in disgust. No man should smell so good. Rebecca had found some of Maggie’s things in the spare room and confiscated faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Rolling the cuffs up to just below her knees and pulling on some bobby socks she sought out Mason. Enough was enough. Tonight things would come to a head, one way or another.

  Mason looked rested. His hair was damp from his bath and it curled around his collar, slightly longer than he was used to wearing it. Rebecca had all she could do not to run her fingers through its softness. Watching him shuffle a deck of cards at the kitchen table, Rebecca’s heart softened. He was so handsome but the real attraction went much deeper.

  He studied her as she went to the fridge and took out a pop. She looked about sixteen dressed as she was and he breathed a sigh of relief. The last few days he’d had no trouble keeping his hands to himself but today even that old flannel robe she’d been wearing couldn’t hide her beautiful body. Well at least she hadn’t found anything revealing in Maggie’s closet.

  Somehow he’d lost his perspective. The whole reason for this trip had been to convince her to marry him but after her illness he hadn’t been able to pressure her. The incredible guilt he felt overrode everything else.

  “What’ll it be lady?” He questioned as she seated herself across the table from him. “Pitch, poker or rummy?”

  “Poker,” Rebecca answered decisively. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play.”

  “Ha my game. I’m going to whip the pants off you.”

  ‘God I hope so,’ she grinned but kept quiet.

  Mason dealt the cards with flair and explained the rudiments to Rebecca. She listened attentively and got up to find something to bet with, returning with match sticks.

  For the next hour and a half they played a companionable game munching popcorn and arguing when Rebecca thought Mason was trying to cheat. Whenever it was Rebecca’s deal she fumbled the cards and Mason tried to show her a better way.

  “Buzz off; I can’t believe three measly deuces beat my two aces and two kings. Are you sure?” she questioned suspiciously.

  Mason twirled an imaginary mustache and grinned delighted with his winning streak. “Would I lie to you?”

  “If you thought you could get away with it, probably.”

  “Madame you wound me.”

  “Not where I’d like to.”

  Mason laughed. “Well if you’re gonna be a sore loser we can always switch to something else. How about Go Fish?”

  “How about you go to hell and we raise the stakes?” she shot back, green eyes sparkling with challenge.

  “All right. What did you have in mind toothpicks, mints?” he teased, his smile one of masculine superiority.

  “Clothes.”

  For a minute he didn’t understand.

  “You already have more clothes in your closet than one woman could wear in a year. What could you possibly want with more?”

  “Not clothes as in a new wardrobe, clothes as in what you’re wearing right now.”

  Understanding flared in Mason’s eyes and they flashed blue fire. Not one to forgo a challenge Mason wavered. Either way I lose he reasoned. In about five maybe six hands she’ll be sitting there stark naked and she knows it. What she really needs is a good lesson he thought. It might just do her good to sit there without a stitch on and have me ignore it. He knew what she was up to all right and while he’d decided not to push marriage he wasn’t going to make love to her and risk a pregnancy. They still had a lot of things to talk out and until they did it was strictly hands off.

  Rebecca waited patiently for his answer. She could almost hear his mind working. A small smile played about her eyes but she said nothing. This would be his decision.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” He questioned. “After all you haven’t won three hands out of twenty all night. It could get mighty chilly in here for you in just a short time.”

  “I’ll take that risk,” she told him picking up the deck and cutting them. “Your deal.”

  Mason’s hands shook slightly as he dealt the first hand, not at all sure he should have agreed to this. Even the thought of seeing her beautiful body, naked and across the table from him and his jeans suddenly felt uncomfortably tight.

  The first hand went to Mason and Rebecca removed one sock and dangled it in front of him before dropping it on the floor. When the other sock came off Mason began to sweat, wondering if he had the stamina to go through with this. God she had only exposed her feet and he was shifting in his chair.

  The third hand went to Rebecca and Mason breathed a sigh of relief as he removed his belt and laid it next to her socks. The silence in the room was deafening as they both concentrated on their cards. Mason lost the next two hands and both his socks joined the pile as he congratulated her on her improving skill. Rebecca just smiled knowingly and dealt the cards with finesse remarkable for someone who had just learned to play a couple of hours ago.

  While the two opponents studied their cards on top of the table, bare toes caressed each other unconsciously beneath it. Mason won the next hand and held his breath as Rebecca considered what to remove next, releasing it when she smiled and pulled the band from her hair. Shimmering blonde waves settled softly around her shoulders and he gasped wondering how he’d ever thought she looked childish before. The secret smile she threw at him was definitely all woman. Her small feet caressed hi
s as he dealt the next hand and he blamed his losing on that as he removed his shirt. Now it was Rebecca’s turn to hold her breath as she watched the ripple of muscles. The sight of his bare chest had her reaching for her pop and for a moment she almost laid the cool glass against her flushed cheeks. Gathering her wits she picked up the deck and began to deal, quickly and expertly. Mason’s eyes narrowed as he began to realize he’d been had. Rebecca played the game beautifully, pretending to be a novice when in fact she knew exactly what she was doing. It galled him to think how worried he’d been about her sitting there naked when in reality it would probably be him. When he yanked his feet back and glared at her Rebecca laughed in delight.

  “What’s wrong Mason? Not going to be a sore loser are you?” she asked, openly admiring him and unconsciously licking her lips.

  The sight of her small pink tongue set Mason’s determination back a bit but he recovered quickly and smiled grimly.

  “Let’s just play shall we?”

  “Anything you say, you’re the teacher,” she shot back, trying not to smile openly.

  “Yeah right,” he growled.

  Mason lost that hand too and as he stood up to unfasten his jeans Rebecca couldn’t keep the anticipations off her face. Her eyes devoured him as he slowly slid down the zipper and eased the tight jeans over his hips. Black bikini briefs were the only thing he had on now and they left little to the imagination. Rebecca now had her doubts on whether she could calmly say goodnight to the magnificent male before her as she had planned to do. She’d been suffering for weeks and she had fully intended to pay him back but the sight of him made her wish she’d lost a few hands herself. Maybe she wouldn’t be so warm.

  Mason was having problems of his own. While he’d been sure he could take the sight of her sitting in all her glory he’d never anticipated what would happen if the shoe were on the other foot. There was no way she could help noticing how aroused he was and no matter where he tried to direct his thoughts it came down to the fact that the woman he loved was all but eating him alive with her eyes. Mason was used to being admired by the female sex but this was something totally different. Rebecca’s eyes actually caressed him, her flushed face glowing. He was alternately embarrassed and inflamed. If he lost one more hand he be stark naked for her enjoyment and if he didn’t she’d uncover another part of her delectable body for his. This was a no win situation, you could both be winners his mind teased, but Mason pushed the thought aside and concentrated as best he could on his cards.

  The hand she dealt him was the best he’d had all night and he didn’t know what to do about it. If he beat her she was either going to take off her jeans or her shirt and he was almost certain she had nothing on underneath them. If she removed another piece of clothing he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do something to ease the fire racing through him. When she lay down her two pair he folded up his full house face down on the table. Rising slowly from his chair he towered over her and let his briefs fall to the floor.

  Rebecca’s mouth went dry. If she’d ever had thoughts of teasing him and then sailing off to bed they escaped her now.

  He was truly magnificent. The soft lighting accentuated his male beauty, shadows outlining the taunt muscles. Her hungry eyes traveled down from his chiseled jaw and drank in the hair covered chest and flat stomach. Dark hair tapered down from his chest and narrowed into a thin line past his trim waist. His legs were long and muscular and Rebecca actually felt faint from the power of her response. She could sense the tension in him and wasn’t sure if it came from anger at her deception or his own desires.

  “Seen enough?” he inquired, eyebrows raised in challenge.

  “Mason I…” Rebecca swallowed, using the table for balance as she rose shakily from her chair.

  Her trembling body gave Mason a small measure of satisfaction. She was in as much pain as he and it pleased him that her little scheme had backfired. Scooping up his clothes he advanced slowly toward her. When her head was tilted back on her slim neck he bent and touched his lips softly to hers. The quivering softness was almost too much for him but he managed to withdraw before it was too late.

  “You win Rebecca,” he said softly. A grin split his face as he turned to leave the room. “Sort of.”

  Rebecca’s nails dug into the table as she watched the sight of his taunt buttocks walking away from her and she all but wailed in frustration. This had not worked out at all as she’d expected. She was supposed to be the one to walk away leaving him seething.

  “Mason,” she called hoarsely. When he paused she continued. “One more hand, winner takes all.”

  He turned to face her questioningly.

  “As you can see honey, you’ve already taken everything I have.”

  “Not everything,” she whispered, sitting back down before she fell down and tearing her eyes away from the sight of him.

  Confusion was the only emotion his mind was capable of registering right now and he walked back to the table, slipping his jeans on but not fastening them. Turning his chair around Mason straddled it, watching her closely.

  “What’s the deal?”

  “Well,” she began, wetting her lips and shuffling the cards, not looking at him. “We play one more hand. If you win I’ll marry you and …”

  “Are you out of your mind,” he roared, almost knocking the chair over as he sprang to his feet and leaned across the table, so close to her their breaths mingled. “You don’t decide something that important on a hand of cards,” he ground out.

  “Wait, you haven’t heard me out,” she shot back tipping her chair on two legs to give herself space. “I think it’s a fine idea and besides you haven’t heard your forfeit if you lose.”

  Mason sat back down with a snap.

  “I can’t believe this,” he growled out. “All right Miss Smarty-Pants. Let’s hear the rest of it.”

  “If you lose,” she breathed, urgency in her voice. “We go into the bedroom and make love all night.”

  “Now there’s a hardship,” he spat back, raking a hand through his hair.

  “Look it’s a way to settle things—that is if you still want to marry me.

  “You don’t want to know what I want right now,” he all but shouted.

  Mason looked at her closely. Comprehension dawning.

  “I get it. You’ve been on a winning streak and you figure it might last. If I lose you get what you’ve wanted all along, a physical relationship with no strings attached and if you lose you can always cry off later.”

  “No Mason. If I lose I’ll keep my promise.”

  “That you’ll marry me?” he snorted derisively. “When in five years?”

  “No, next week if you want, whenever you want.”

  “Boy lady, you want it bad,” he drawled sarcastically. Rebecca almost backed out then. His attitude wasn’t what she’d expected and she felt the first fissure of fear, fear that he’d win or she’d win she wasn’t sure.

  Mason snapped the chair down to four legs.

  “Deal.”

  Her hands shook as she shuffled. Twice she dropped cards and had to start over.

  “Having second thoughts honey?” he drawled softly, an unholy gleam in his eyes.

  “No, just a little nervous,” she answered.

  “You should be,” was his reply.

  Rebecca dealt the cards and held her breath looking at her royal flush of hearts in awe.

  Mason scowled and lay down his hand. Two pair. Rebecca weighed her options. If she showed her hand she would spend an incredible night in Mason’s arms. If she folded a lifetime. She folded.

  Rebecca was not a happy camper when the sun streamed in through the bedroom window. A glance at the clock told her it was still early and the one thing she wanted to do most at the moment was sleep. It had been a long night of tossing and turning and only her pride had kept her from joining Mason in the other bed. The frustration she had endured in the seemingly endless hours till daybreak more than punished her for her deception
of the night before and all she wanted was a few hours of undisturbed rest. She still couldn’t believe that Mason had calmly informed her they would be married as soon as possible and kissed her good night, on the forehead no less. Now the sound of deep masculine singing coming from the other room made sleep impossible. The clatter of pots and pans seemed like an explosion in her tired mind. Climbing out of bed she stomped out of the room. Marching angrily into the kitchen she shoved her tangled hair out of her eyes and glared at Mason.

  “Something wrong?” he inquired artlessly, taking in the clenched jaw and angrily tapping foot.

  “Only that someone let a herd of bellowing elephants loose in here and I haven’t had an hours sleep all night. Do you think it’s possible to do whatever it is you’re doing at this ungodly hour a little more quietly?”

  “It might be if you asked me nicely,” he returned, crossing his arms over his chest, dark head tilted expectantly. His slate eyes gave nothing away this morning and Rebecca could have sworn he’d had a wonderful night’s sleep which further infuriated her.

  Dressed in tight jeans and a cream sweater he’d already showered and shaved and looked vibrantly male and awake. Ignoring him and the smell of coffee perking, Rebecca stumbled to the cupboard searching until she found a bottle of aspirin. Without a word she brushed past him to get to the sink for water.

  “We are in a nasty mood this morning aren’t we?” he asked turning away and giving the skillet of sausage a shake. While he was slightly amused by her temper, the sight of her slim legs and the sway of her hips did nothing to cool his still smoldering passions.

  Rebecca swallowed the pills before answering. The thoughts that had kept her awake all night flowed over her like the steam rising from the stove. Her level of frustration was so high that her answer came without thought.

  “I’m not nasty,” she informed him, hands on hips, head thrown back in challenge. “I’m tired, and the reason I’m tired is because I spent all night remembering the last time we slept together.”